Next To Me
by neworldiscoverer
Summary: When Regina had said "small town feel" to the real estate agent she'd been referred to, she hadn't meant an actual small town. But Storybrooke, Maine was charming and quaint... A.K.A The One Where They're Neighbors
1. September

**author's note:** _It was over a year ago when I had a dream about SQ being neighbors. I told CatchMeInADream about it and after a not-so-PG texting conversation, this is what happened! Hopefully beginning to post it will be just the kick in the pants I need to get it finished._

* * *

When Regina had said "small town feel" to the real estate agent she'd been referred to, she hadn't meant an actual small town. But Storybrooke, Maine was charming and quaint and although the winter lasted half the year and the downtown streets near the wharf smelled a little (read: a lot) like the tuna cannery, the list of things she liked went on for much longer and there was just something about it that was so not New York City that Regina found herself making an offer on the two-story, three bedroom, two and a half bath town house on Second Street. All of the houses on the street were original, New England colonial style with columns and white window trim with shutters, some of them in better shape than others. A few of the houses had been turned into shops with apartments on the top floor and a few were empty due to repairs needed to make them livable again, but Regina chose the side of the street that was not such an eyesore and Mr. Hopper had insisted that the Mayor of Storybrooke was on a mission to see to it that those buildings were restored and saved from being condemned. The houses had little space between them, the lots right up next to each other, but coming from New York, a whole driveway in between seemed like a luxury.

Henry had been the first to notice that the For Sale sign was gone.

"You're right, kid," Emma said, her arm slung over his shoulder even as he tried to curl away from her. Ever since he hit fifth grade, Henry wasn't a fan of showing affection in public, even if they were on the walk in front of their own home. God forbid any of his friends see his mother kiss him on the forehead. Surely he would disintegrate into ashes from the power of pure embarrassment. He wriggled free and leapt up the front steps and into the house. Emma generally left the door unlocked, partially due to forgetfulness but also because they lived in a town where everyone knew everyone and crime felt like something only on the news in the television, distant. Half the time she left the keys in her car, though Ruby claimed that no one in their right mind would steal the Bug. Emma, who was used to such digs at her beloved mode of transportation, had merely rolled her eyes and half-heartedly punched her friend in the arm.

Emma stopped and turned to look at the empty house beside theirs, a reflective look in her eyes before the sound of someone slamming a car door or trunk grabbed her attention. "Hey Archie!" Emma waved her bare hand at him and he waved his green mittened one back, having just deposited the aforementioned For Sale sign in the trunk of his car. In the backseat, his dog, a Dalmatian, leans over to inspect the sign with his nose.

"Who's moving in?" she asked, crossing her yard so as not to have to speak so loudly.

"Your new neighbor," he said with a shrug and half-smile, not one to disclose client information.

"Yeah?" Emma quirked a brow at the balding man with his gray-green eyes magnified behind the rims of his glasses and smiled back, dipping her hands into her coat pockets. "Where are they from? Can you at least give me that?" She rocked back on her heels.

He shook his head like he shouldn't but answered her anyway. "New York."

"Oooh, big city people." Emma grinned. "I should make them something. Welcome them in with some neighborly warmth." She curled her fingers around her chin and stroked thoughtfully at an invisible beard. "I've got it! My famous tuna casserole." She snapped her fingers and pointed at the sky like she'd had a revelation.

Archie's chuckle at the blonde's antics died in his throat. "Are you sure that's a-"

Emma jostled him with a sharp shoulder and he stumbled a little against the curb before catching his balance. "Oh ye of little faith. I only messed it up that one time at that one potluck. Jeez. I'm not that much of a failure at cooking anymore. Ask Henry! Or, well... maybe don't. He's gotten picky. He didn't used to be. Is that normal?"

"Miss Swan, I'm hardly the person to consult on child develo-"

"Archie. It's Emma, remember? Not Miss Swan. Don't get all business mode on me." She shook her finger at him, smiling brightly.

They both turn when they hear her front door swing open and bang against the wall. Henry's head pokes out over the white colonial-style railing. "Ma! I'm starving!" he hollered.

"Annnd that's my cue. See you around, Archie." Emma walked back to her house, pausing once to look over her shoulder. "Have a good evening!"

It's early fall, the start of September, and there's a nip in the air and a light drizzle of rain falling when Regina turns down Second Street. There's a school bus in front of her, every light flashing like it's Christmas with whistles and bells and jingles. The little stop sign swings out, warning her to stay back, the exhaust brakes squeak even over the radio she has playing softly from her speakers. A boy jumps out onto the sidewalk like he's superman, a jacket tied around his waist by the sleeves and his green TMNT backpack hitting him on the back when he lands. He peels up the front walk and into the house that's beside her new house and her new driveway. And Regina knows it's a little cynical to be thinking like this, but she can't help it, and wonders about the noise he might make and how it will most likely disturb her. Perhaps she should have chosen a house further away from the school. At least only one child gets off at this stop. Perhaps he won't be too problematic.

The moving truck is late and the house takes forever to heat up when it's empty like this. Regina is tired and grouchy and that's before she even gets started on directing the tardy movers on where to place her furniture and boxes. She doesn't have much. Moving from a city loft apartment to a full house leaves her with little to fill the house with, but she's got an order from a furniture and decorating store arriving next week as well as an appointment with an interior designer. She had been hard pressed to find one in the area, but time and perseverance had paid off as usual.

A single plate is cracked and Regina finds it once the movers are gone so she instead complains to her echo, going on to the blank walls and vaulted ceiling in a miniature tirade about how it was from the set of her mother's china and composing an unhappy letter of complaint and scalding review to the moving company before tossing the plate into the trash and deciding to leave a more civil review on their website. Her mother's old china is not Regina's best china after all. When Regina comes in from throwing the plate out, she hears a melodious, but unfamiliar sound ring through the house. It must be the doorbell and when it sounds again, she's already briskly walked to the front door and is pulling it open and surprising the woman on her porch so soundly that the blonde almost drops the glass Pyrex dish she is holding.

So their introduction is messy and flustered and mostly all Emma remembers is how hard she had been blushing. She honestly can't remember the woman's name, but she can remember how it felt like she was on fire.

"Did you not think the door would be answered?" the woman who answered the door asked. Her tone was one of amusement and when her eyes flick over to Henry, his eyes match her mirth and made Emma feel like they were both inwardly laughing at her.

"No! I just- You- Uh. You were just really fast, is all. I was-" Emma babbled. "Here." She shoved the dish in her hands towards the ridiculously and incredibly good looking lady. Emma did not generally think of herself as someone who had the ability to become immediately besotted, but this was... This was coming pretty close to the besotting level.

The woman put her hands out just in time, sliding her hands underneath the dish towel. Whatever was in the pan was fresh out of the oven and the heat radiating felt rather nice.

"I'm Emma. Emma Swan. And this is my son, Henry." The blonde seemed calmer now, her hand on the boy's shoulder, fingers squeezing until he gave the woman a wave with one hand and something resembling a smile or grimace. At least she was speaking more slowly. "We're your new neighbors. Or... I guess you're ours? We live right there." Emma jerked her thumb towards their house.

Emma was sure they had engaged in small talk for a few more minutes that surely had included this woman's name, but she really really was having a tough time recalling it. She knew the woman was singular and had not come with a significant other or children, but that much could have been gathered by the things the movers had carried into the house while Emma may or may not have been watching from her kitchen window.

Once she and Henry were back inside their house, she spent a good five minutes leaning against the back of the door, an intense look on her face.

Henry walked past ten minutes later, a cold piece of pizza hanging from his mouth, his PSP in his hands. "Ma?" He took in her furrowed brow and the way she was drumming her fingertips against her mouth.

"Yeah?" she replied distractedly.

Henry took another long look at her. "You're weird," he pronounced and went up the staircase.

Emma didn't hear what he had said until he had reached his bedroom. "No eating on your bed! Use a napkin!" She grabbed the banister and shouted from her tiptoes, as if that would make him hear her. "Or a paper towel. Or Kleenex! You have options!" she added.

Henry startled when not a minute later, she was at his door, pushing it the rest of the way open with her foot. "Hey."

"Hey." He didn't look up from his game.

"What was the name of our new neighbor?" Emma asked, sliding a folded sheet of paper towel under the half eaten slice of pizza on Henry's desk.

He eyed her critically after putting his game on pause. "Seriously, Ma?" Henry took another bite of pizza.

Emma pushed the heels of her hands into her head and shut her eyes. "Help your mother out here, kid. It's been a long day for her."

He sighed and poked her side. "Don't talk about yourself like that. It's weird. Her name is Regina Mills."

Emma put her hands down and ruffled through Henry's hair with one of them before planting a kiss on the top of his head. "Thank you. You used to talk about yourself in third person all the time, in case you've forgotten."

"Yeah. When I was a baby." Henry rolled his eyes and went back to his game.

Emma chuckled lightly and patted his shoulder firmly. "You have homework, Henry. Finish up the level and hop to it." She let herself out of his bedroom and took the stairs down two at a time. "Regina, Regina, Regina," she repeated quietly to herself each time her feet hit a new stair.

The casserole is not good.

Regina tries to make it work, she does. Adds a few spices from her things in one of the numerous boxes marked "kitchen," but her neighbor's casserole is just too dry and nothing fixes too much salt. She decides to keep it for a day before throwing it out and remembers that at least it kept her hands warm and was a gesture of goodwill.

Still, it means she goes to bed hungry, even if she is a little less grouchy and dreams of swimming in the sea with a school of tuna fish and a boy and a blonde-haired woman in those old-fashioned gold-colored diving suits. The helmets look like fishbowls and have thick oxygen tubes sticking out from the top. When she wakes up, she desperately needs the bathroom after all that water, and stumbles through her tunnel of boxes to get there.

She can see right into her neighbor's house like this, standing and washing her hands at the sink though she's yet to buy or unpack any handsoap. Regina has no idea what time it is. She hasn't unpacked any of her wall clocks and she turns her cell phone off overnight as it eliminates any calls from her mother. It could be three in the morning or only midnight for all she knows, but Emma is sitting in what must be a window seat or a chair close to her bedroom window and she never notices Regina because her head is bent and she's asleep or reading from something in her lap, a book or a electronic reader. Regina wonders in a sleep-blurred haze why Emma doesn't have curtains as she makes her way back to bed and falls into a peaceful slumber that doesn't have any schools of fish or scuba diving Emma Swans.


	2. October

Regina puts up curtains that first week. So even if the Swan family doesn't care if they can be spied upon at any hour of the night, Regina could at least control whether or not anyone looked in on her when it was dark out and her lights were on. The interior designer was a little bit of a disappointment, Regina found her color schemes too cold with only whites and grays and ivory. At least personality-wise they hit it off right away and Regina at least got a couple of pleasant dinner dates out of Ingrid before the interior of Regina's house was acceptably decorated.

It was October before she turned any attention to the backyard; the leaves on the trees were orange and gold and mostly on the ground. Her yard was adjacent to the garage, square in shape and relatively unlandscaped. It was not fenced, but the neighbor on her other side had a low sort of brick retaining wall on the property line. The Swans had a simple chain-link fence that sagged in a few sections. There was a fair-sized tree in the middle of the lawn, it's limbs bent and gnarly and completely leafless while the trees in the neighboring yards still had half of their foliage attached. Regina rested her hands on her hips and looked up at the tree. She had just determined what it was when a chipper voice called for her attention.

"Please don't cut it down!"

Regina swiveled her body around, eyes searching until she found the body that the voice belonged to. Emma Swan was dressed in a flimsy white v-neck and a pair of blue jeans messily tucked into a pair of unflattering black galoshes. Her plaid button up had been discarded and thrown over the bowed chain-link fence and she leaned over it with her elbows balanced on the top rail after setting her rake down. "My apple tree?" Regina questioned. The tree in question didn't even look alive.

Emma nodded firmly. "It only looks dead, we promise."

"We...?" Regina pursed her lips and frowned lightly until the eleven year old boy burst out of a large pile of damp leaves. He bounded up to the fence hitting it hard enough that both women winced at the sound of the impact his feet made. Henry latched onto the top rail of it and scrambled up, nearly taking a nosedive onto Regina's cement driveway, but for the blonde hooking one long arm around his waist and keeping him sitting upright on the fence.

"Does it still produce fruit?" Regina asked once the crisis had been adverted, mother and son grinning like loons at each other with matching pink noses and rosy cheeks from the sharpness of the fall air. She looked down and found herself no longer in her yard, but on the edge of her driveway, closer to them.

Henry shoved off the fence and landed in a crouch in front of her. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze and smiled quick and hard before dashing past her to the tree.

"What the- Henry David! Get out of Miss Mills' yard this instant!" Emma called, a horrified expression creeping onto her features.

Regina stepped closer to the fence. "It's really fine," she said and smiled to show that she meant it, waving her hand dismissively. Emma's horror faded. Over Regina's shoulder, Henry saw her wave her hand and didn't budge from the tree. He resumed jumping and trying to grab onto the lower branches. His blue and white striped knit hat fell off of his head and into the grass in his enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry," Emma apologized, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and ducking her head to do so. "He's not usually this uncontrollable, I swear." Regina watched as a shiver rolled down both of Emma's shoulders and the blonde grabbed her long sleeved shirt, peeling off her damp work gloves so she could pull it on. She buttoned the shirt up quickly and Regina bit her tongue for a good minute before pointing out that Emma hadn't gotten it quite right.

Emma looked down at herself and then laughed when she saw how crooked the buttons were. "No wonder I had two buttons left and no buttonholes." Much to Regina's amusement, the blonde shrugged, left the shirt lopsided and gracefully hopped up and over the fence to join Regina and Henry.

"It hasn't had apples in several years," she said, approaching the tree while the brunette followed her. Henry had managed to grab onto a branch and was now dangling from it with his feet held up off the ground. "I want to say Henry was about seven when it stopped." As she said his name, Emma reached out her hand and tickled Henry on the exposed part of his stomach where his jacket had ridden up. He barked out a laugh and dropped to the ground, whining at her for making him lose his concentration. "It needs other apple trees nearby to cross pollinate and it just so happens that your neighbors there... and there," here Emma pointed to the houses she was referring to, "have chopped down their apple trees, leaving yours all alone."

Henry had left the tree and was turning over rocks in what looked like had once been a gardening box. He perked up at his mother's words though. "Just like George Washington!" he exclaimed.

"No, close, but that was a cherry tree," Emma corrected and motioned her son over. "Pick up your hat, Henry."

Regina peered up at her tree again in the fading light. It still had character, even if was no longer fruitful. "An apple tree with no apples..." she murmured, "It's a little sad, don't you think?" And then Emma was looking at her with a look that Regina couldn't place, hard as she tried. It was gone too soon and replaced with what seemed to be Emma's trademark expression, a contagious smile, and Henry was flinging himself at the fence again and falling over onto their side into the leaves on the ground.

"Yeah, I guess it sort of is..." Emma finally answered, walking back to the chain-link fence. The sun is setting behind their houses. "Still... Don't cut it down. We have a plan. It's a good plan, too. Trust me." The blonde nods, mainly to herself, and leaps over into her backyard. "Have a good rest of your evening, Miss Mills."

Regina is unsure if she should smile at that. The plan sounds... suspicious, if she can base that off of the information she has. Which is only that a plan exists. "Goodnight Emma." The only sign she gets to know that the blonde has heard her is a lifted hand, Emma's voice already raised at Henry to pick his rake up and put it somewhere where it wouldn't get stepped on. With the sunlight gone, it feels cold outside and Regina heads for her back door, stopping under the apple tree once more, this time to scoop up the blue and white striped hat.

A rush of warm air and the smell of baked goods hits Regina's senses when the front door to the Swan's house is pulled open. She looks down to find Henry looking up at her. "Hi Miss Mills." He's quick on the uptake, spying the hat she is holding in one hand. "Oh, thanks!" He takes it from Regina, almost faster than she can hand it to him. "Ma! It's Miss Mills!" Henry calls over his shoulder and leaves Regina at the door. She listens to him run up the stairs and wonders if he and Emma are always on the move like that; a mad dash here, a sprint there, like life's a race they can't get enough of and are thrilled just to be in the running.

Emma hurried out from the kitchen to the door and found her neighbor standing on her front porch with the front door swung open. Of course, Regina looked like she had just come from attending the opera in her peacoat and slacks and boots with impressive heels, down to her jewelry, scarf and red leather gloves. Emma huffed out a soft laugh and wiped her hands on her apron. She was in socks and skinny jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. The apron was pale green with a little pink and yellow and purple floral embroidery on the hem and across the chest. Emma's mother had made it years ago and it clearly showed the use even though it was currently covered in flour and speckles of something that was orange.

"Did Henry leave you here?" Emma asked and shook her head at Regina's responding nod. "That kid, I tell you..." she grumbled with a smile. "Hey, you want to come in? I'm making cookies for Henry's class and I burned the first batch a little so I need to be in the kitchen."

"Oh no, Emma. Thank you, but I just came by to drop off your dish," Regina explained, holding out the pan that had contained tuna casserole last month. It had gotten mixed up with her dishes in the unpacking process and had resurfaced just today.

"Perfect!" Emma didn't take it though. "You can bring it in. Coat closet's there, boots can go here," she said, pointing to the places while walking away. "Kitchen is the first door on the left!" The last instruction isn't really needed, Regina easily found the kitchen by following her nose. She could place a few of the scents: vanilla, nutmeg, and pumpkin. There was no counterspace for Regina to put down the clean dish in her arms. There was plenty of countertop, but every inch of it was covered in ingredients, bowls, measuring and stirring spoons, cookie sheets, and more. Emma was in the smack dab middle of it, whirring around like a productive hurricane, banging things and slamming the oven door. When she saw Regina, she stopped and eyed the Pyrex critically. "You can put that..." Emma made a 360 rotation, taking in the full sight of her kitchen."Oh f- I mean, crap. Crap. How about... Hm. Why don't you just put it on the coffee table in the living room? Yeah. That'll work."

Emma was making little delighted sounds, bent over a steaming cookie sheet, when Regina came back into the kitchen empty handed. The living room had been warm and the couch was comfy looking and had blankets strewn over it. There had been photos on the walls of Henry from baby to now, but no sign of any Mr. Swan. "These came out awesome," Emma crowed, carefully sliding the cookies onto a rack. "Taste test!" she announced, pulling two of them straight from the sheet and handing one to Regina. "Ah, they're hot!" Emma tossed the cookie from one palm to the other. Regina set hers down on the corner of the kitchen island. Regina didn't want to appear rude, but she waited until Emma took the first bite before trying her cookie. Probably cookies were harder to ruin than casseroles, but she would rather be safe than sorry.

As it turned out, she had worried for naught. Regina bit into her cookie once it had cooled sufficiently. If the first ones Emma baked had not been up to par, these were above the bar. Her mouth was already watering for a second bite.

"Oh, no fair! Ma, you gave her a sample?" Henry popped into the kitchen, wearing his returned hat, his eyes on the half eaten cookie in Regina's hand. "What about me? I'm your firstborn!" He laid his hand over his chest as if he were physically wounded.

Emma rolled her eyes lightly and picked one of the smaller cookies off the cooling rack for him. "Here you go, drama prince. You're my onlyborn, by the way."

He grinned at her, stuffing the entire cookie into his mouth. "I know."

Emma lifted her head towards Regina. "These aren't the finished product yet either."

Henry reached for the cookies while she spoke. Emma was so quick that Regina didn't see what she did, but she clearly heard the sound of the smack the spatula made against the back of Henry's hand. "You're so mean." Henry said flatly, withdrawing his hand and sharing a look with his mother that made Regina there was something behind his words, like an inside joke. "The meanest," Emma responded, her green eyes getting comically big for half a second. She leaned her forehead against Henry's and he let her before remembering that they had a visitor. His face flushed with embarrassment and he quickly snatched another cookie before tearing out of the room.

"What exactly is the finished product?" Regina asked. "They are delicious," she added sincerely. The blonde beamed and Regina suppressed the sudden and insistent urge to wipe the flour from Emma's face. Her fingers twitched once against the countertop.

Emma reached across the island for a page that had been ripped from a magazine and pointed a floury finger at the picture beside the recipe instructions. "Maple flavored icing! I haven't mixed it up yet, but it needs to be drizzled on once the cookies are cool anyways." Distracted, Emma walked away and stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway to call out to her son. "Henry! How many of these do you need?"

"Dunno!" was her son's muffled reply.

Emma sighed and shook her head, giving Regina a dramatically long-suffering look that made the brunette hide a giggle behind her hand. "How many kids are in your class?" she asked out the door again.

"I don't know!" came Henry's voice, louder as he walked down the hall to her. "Like twenty or something maybe."

"Thank you." Emma went back into the kitchen, mumbling to herself about needing four dozen cookies. Regina took this as a good opening for her to show herself out and she had gotten her coat and boots back on and had her hand on the doorknob when Emma came flying into her quite literally.

"Oof!"

Regina wasn't sure who had gotten the breath knocked out of whom, but they both gasped before pulling away from each other. "Oh my god, oh my god! Sorry!" Emma exclaimed, her hands suddenly all over Regina which, not that she was complaining about it, but did confuse Regina until she realized that their collision had resulted in the mess on Emma's apron being transferred to Regina's coat and the blonde was desperately trying to brush it off. She was having little success due to the shape her hands were in. "I was coming out here to- I forgot I wasn't wearing shoes, and my socks are- The floor is- I- God. Shit. Christ. Fu- I'm so so so sorry! Are you alright?"

Regina managed, after a couple of tries, to sequester Emma's wrists, stilling Emma's hands in her own. "Apology accepted," she said, "and yes, I'm alright, are you?"

Emma's face was bright red as she took her hands back and she looked at a loss of what to do with them, her pockets covered up by the apron she was wearing. "Yeah, I'm good, I was coming to say goodbye and to actually ask a favor, but now that kind of seems like a moot point so I think I better let you go before I, uh... Do anything else. Thanks for bringing back my dish."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get it back to you."

"Nah, I have like a million of them," Emma said lightly, waving her hand like it truly didn't matter. Emma opened the door and held it open for Regina to cross the threshold.

The fall air was crisp, but the cold was not what made Regina hesitate on the Swan's porch. "Emma." Regina turned all the way around and put her gloved hand on the blonde's arm that was still holding the door open. Emma completely froze at her touch. "What is the favor you wanted to ask of me?" Regina prompted.

Emma blinked and shook her head slightly. "It's just... uh... I may or may not be out of flour."

Regina smiled. "I may or may not be able to help with that. One moment."

Emma shut her mouth after realizing it was open from watching Regina walk away. The heater clicked on from her having the door open to the chilly winter air for so long.

Regina came back with a bag of white flour and a partially used and open bag of wheat flour. When Emma tried to say she'll buy her back the items, Regina refused and jokingly said that the only payment she needed was some of the "finished product."

The next morning, after the school bus is gone and Emma's yellow buggy of a car has pulled out of the street, Regina finds a Ziploced paper plate of iced pumpkin cookies on her doormat.

A month of respite, without work, is all Regina can make herself handle before boredom rears its head. She is hired almost immediately at the local newspaper. "You're overqualified for this job, you know," her soon-to-be boss, Mr. Glass, told her, looking seriously at her over his readers. "It's fine," she had assured him. And it really was. The business section was hers and it was a walk in the park compared to the stocks that she used to manage. Working for The Mirror might not be as prestigious as the Wall Street Journal, but Regina always took pride in her work. Not to mention, the lack of stress was amazing.

By the end of October, all of the trees around town look like her bare naked apple tree and on the Swan's front porch stood two jack-o-lanterns, one with a spooky smile and the other with something that looked more like a mask. It puzzled Regina the first few nights she saw it and she slowed her Cadillac down to a crawl to study it and ended up going past the entrance of her driveway. The next week, it hit her. A storm trooper mask. Probably Henry was a Star Wars fan.

"Trick or treat!"

"Shh! Henry! What did I say?"

Regina couldn't help the smile that flickered onto her face when she opened the door to find her next door neighbors standing on her porch.

"Need candy!" Henry said plaintively and swished a plastic sword around in the air.

"Sorry." Emma's smile was easy and relaxed, though she did send a glare towards her pirate son before turning back to Regina. "We may have had some pre-trick-or-treat-candy..." She chuckled lightly and held out something. "I- Er, we made this for you. Happy Halloween!"

"Oh." Regina is again surprised with a warm dish in her hands, this time in a pie tin.

"Happy Halloween!" Henry choruses, repeating the sentiment over his mother. "I won't trick you, as long as you have candy, Miss Mills, promise!"

Regina didn't generally keep sweets in her cupboard, but she had something in mind the minute Henry had asked. She turned her attention on him, wrapping her hands more securely around the pie. "Who are you dressed as?" she asked.

Henry shook his fist at her, which was covered with a long poofy sleeve and capped off with a shiny faux metal hook. "Zombie Captain Hook!" he said, still shouting.

Regina blinked and took in the garish face painting. "Aha, I see."

"He couldn't pick just one so I said, why not both!" Emma leaned in. "I did the face painting."

"I... You're very artistic, dear." Regina nodded and turned her gaze to Emma, who looked blankly at her for a half a second before she shook her head and explained her costume. The blonde was wearing a long white robe and her hair was put up in a very specific style. "I know who you are... Princess Leia," Regina said before Emma had finished explaining.

It was worth her miniscule knowledge of George Lucas' sci-fi universe to see Emma beam at her, mega-watt bright.

"You like Star Wars, too?" Henry looked exasperated at that revelation, but it quickly passed and he shook his bag impatiently at Regina.

Emma tugged on his shoulder, breaking eye contact with Regina to bend down towards him. "Hey kid, that's not what we're here for, remember?"

Henry scowled and scuffed his shoes. "Well can we go then? All my friends will be-"

Regina quickly stepped away from the door and returned in short notice with a handful of chocolates. They were not the kind you could pick up from the grocery store in bulk or value packages and Henry's eyes grew very large when he caught a glimpse of them as she put them into his bag. "Sweet. She's got the good kind of candy, Ma," he told Emma, looking up at her.

"Well?" Emma nudged him lightly in the shoulder and nodded her chin at Regina.

Henry turned his gaze to her. "Thank you, Miss Mills!"

"You're very welcome Henry. Thank you for the pie."

Regina was growing accustomed to the way the boy leaps and dashes about and tonight is no different, other than his leap off her porch is accentuated with a hearty "argh!" and "ahoy matey!" when Henry goes. "Well, I'll- uh, see you later, Miss Mills," Emma said, "Have a good evening, sorry about all that." The blonde gestured at the place where Henry had been standing. "I asked him not to trick-or-treat at you, but-"

Regina holds out a chocolate bar to Emma, which stops her neighbor from continuing to apologize. The brunette pulls back a little when Emma reaches for the candy and Regina's expectant gaze is met with hazel eyes that register a snappy understanding.

"Trick or treat?"

Emma's fingers are warm against Regina's.


End file.
